


Words Fail

by Vipersweb (Rhianona)



Series: Ashes in the Fall [4]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Ashes in the Fall, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-15
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhianona/pseuds/Vipersweb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you don't need words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Fail

The first time he sees her, the light that streams through the window in the Gateroom shines brilliant colors on her blonde hair. He blinks in bemusement, his mind conjuring some poetic nonsense before he returns his nose to the data pad seemingly glued to his hand these days.

When he sees her in the mess hall, sitting with Sheppard's crew, her head thrown back as she laughs throatily, he thinks he knows her from somewhere. He shrugs, gets in line and grabs his tray of food before moving to sit at the same table as his mystery woman. He smiles a hello to them all and lets Rodney engage him in conversation. Through it all, he's aware of her curious gaze on his face. He notes how careful she is to not meet his eyes and he wonders at that. He realizes he has never met her after all, and he's disappointed. When she leaves the table, he can't help but think he should know her.

He thinks it's her eyes. They are full of sorrow and shadows and regrets. He doesn't find it surprising that he recognizes this; he sees the same eyes in his mirror every day.

He sees her in the training room, sparring first with Teyla and then with Ronon and he realizes that this is beauty. She spins and kicks, punches and lunges with a savage fierceness that causes his breath to catch in his throat. He finally gets what Teal'c sees in Ishta, what Sam and Jack see in each other. There is something so primal in the way she fights. It is as if he can see into her soul and he doesn't know why. He's confused as he hasn't been in years. He stumbles away from the room, ignoring Teyla's concern, Ronon's grunt. She is ever silent.

He is sitting on the floor of one of the many balconies that ring Atlantis when she comes to him. She settles down next to him and he waits for her to speak. Words are his life, his soul. He has always had words, has always managed to find the exact phrase or speech a situation requires. And yet, sitting here as the setting sun dips below the horizon, the soft spring breeze playing gently over their skin, words fail.

They sit in silence. By now he has learned who she is – a beautiful refugee from a people who has fled genocide; a fighter who has fought and loved and sacrificed to those she feels loyalty. She chose to remain here, to fight the Wraith. She has saved members of the expedition, people she didn't know until a few months ago. She is not perfect and he knows that she is the opposite of him in almost every way. Loud and brash, quick to anger, quicker to throw a punch. And yet.

As the sun creeps down, she takes his hand and squeezes it gently before standing and leaving him to the quiet. A part of him wishes he had the courage to ask her to stay.

He finds himself at the balcony every sunset. The second time she joins him, he is surprised. By the fifth time he is happy. Words still do not pass between them and a part of him doesn't understand what they have. He wants to speak with her, wants to know what she thinks – but he is afraid. Afraid to break the spell that has wrapped them together.

They touch, share shy glances and not much else. He knows the rest of the expedition does not understand what is between them. He's not sure he does either. For once in his life, he decides to leave well enough alone. She seems to feel the same.

She touches him lightly, her calloused fingers tracing the veins in his arm, traveling upwards to gently rub the back of his neck, her hand moving back and forth from his throat to ear. He leans in, lets her take her pleasure, lets her learn him. He in turn traces her face with his fingertips, threads his fingers through her hair and inhales the scent that is clean and sweet and her.

Some nights he holds her; others it is she that holds, protects. The best nights are when they sit side by side, their boots knocking together, partners.

He no longer goes to the balcony unless she is in the city. On the nights she is off world, he buries himself in work, tries not to think of all the very many things that can go wrong in the Pegasus galaxy. He doesn't know what she does on the nights he's not on Atlantis. Then Sheppard makes an off-hand comment about how she had been running the new recruits ragged while he was gone. He smiles.

He knows their relationship is weird. They still do not exchange words. They dance around the attraction they feel. It is as if with every touch, every glance, they learn more about one another. As the weeks pass, he sees the shadows that have haunted her eyes since she first came, since he first noticed her dim and gradually disappear. If he asked, he thinks people would say the same of him.

It has been four months since he first noticed her; three months since they started sharing balcony space. She is sitting next to him, her hand dancing in his. She seems oddly nervous, as if she has finally come to a decision. He smiles and turns to her, cups her face in his hands and brings his lips to hers, gently, lightly. As the sun sets, he holds her to him and words finally return.


End file.
